


Sleep, My Baby

by Parrhesia



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Breastfeeding, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Fanfiction of Fanfiction, For The Love Of God Do Not Archive, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Nursing Kink, Other, Sort Of, Subdrop, undeniably the weirdest thing ive ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrhesia/pseuds/Parrhesia
Summary: "They've fallen into a routine. They haven't talked about it, really, but it became an unspoken understanding between them after that first night, that this was something they both needed."Based on Baby Need Snack by Plumcot.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 91





	Sleep, My Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Baby Need Snack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499784) by [Plumcot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plumcot/pseuds/Plumcot). 



> Set after the events of Baby Need Snack. Definitely go read that one first if you haven't already!

"Come in, Martin." Jon says, just as Martin lifts a hand to knock on his office door.

"Almost done?" Martin asks, peaking inside.

"Nearly."

It looks like he's wrapping up some final details on a statement, putting everything neatly into a file to be taken to document storage.

Martin strips off his jumper, leaving him in just the button-up shirt underneath, and hangs it on the coat rack in the corner. He waits until Jon lays the file neatly on its pile, then gives Martin a stiff nod.

Without a word Martin walks over and scoops him up into his arms. Jon goes willingly, wrapping his own arms securely around Martin's neck. Martin loves how easy it is to hold Jon, the way his small frame fits just so in the cradle of Martin's arms.

He takes a seat in Jon's chair, settles Jon comfortably in his lap and unbuttons his shirt. He's taken to wearing a sports bra that zips up the front, because it makes it easier to hide his new chest under thick jumpers, and more importantly because it makes for convenient access when he feeds Jon. 

Jon is already nuzzling closer as Martin unzips. 

"So impatient," he coos, his free hand leaving the bra to stroke gently at the hair near Jon's temple. Jon blushes adorably, eyes closed tight, but he visibly relaxes into the touch. It makes Martin's heart ache warmly when Jon responds so easily to his care, letting go in a way Martin is uniquely privileged to witness. 

Jon latches on as soon as Martin frees his breast. He sucks rather urgently at first and Martin can tell he's had a bad day, because he gets this way when there are a lot of statements or he hits a dead end with a follow-up. 

Martin shushes him gently, cradling Jon's head and rocking as much as he can in the stiff office chair. It's not easy, but he knows how much Jon loves to be rocked. He wonders if anyone would notice if he replaced the chair with a comfortable rocker. 

They've fallen into a routine. They haven't talked about it, really, but it became an unspoken understanding between them after that first night, that this was something they both needed. Every evening, when the other assistants have left and Jon and Martin are the only two left in the archives, Martin comes to Jon's office and nurses him like this. Jon needed a bit of a firm hand the first time to make him understand how badly he needed it, but every subsequent feeding he's just bashfully submitted to Martin's coddling. 

It's been a month since the incident that resulted in Martin's... condition. They're still researching, of course, looking for any possible ways to reverse it. But no one has been able to unearth any information about the bottle, now locked up tight in artifact storage with a large print "do not touch" sign. Every possible lead seems to go nowhere. Sasha had told him solemnly that they might never find a way to fix it. Martin should probably be at least a little upset by this. But, well... 

It's not like it's the worst thing that could happen, is it? Plenty of trans men manage living with breasts (minus the constant, uncontrollable lactation), why can't Martin do the same? And the feeding sessions are a net positive for everybody: Martin is finally connecting with Jon, and Jon looking much healthier these days, not to mention the positive effect it was having on Jon's mood. Jon has been more at ease than Martin has ever seen him, even their coworkers had remarked about how mellow Jon is lately compared to his usual grouchy self.

Jon has gone completely lax in Martin's lap now, tucked in as close as he can get and suckling drowsily. Martin could stay like this forever, but after a while his nipple begins to ache, signaling that he's mostly empty now. 

This is the hardest part. Martin pulls his teat from Jon's mouth slowly, hoping he's too sleepy to notice its absence and maybe they can sit like this just a little longer, but Jon rouses as soon as Martin's nipple leaves his mouth with a tiny pop. He opens his eyes, half-lidded, looking disorientated, and begins to exhale quiet whines at the loss. Martin's heart breaks at the sound. 

"Shh shh shh, it's alright," he whispers, pulling Jon in closer until his head is nestled between his breasts. Jon snuffles against the warm skin of Martin's chest and settles back into dozing contentedly. 

Martin wants to let him drain the other side, but he only does both sides when Jon hasn't had anything else to eat that day; he wants to fatten Jon up a bit, but he doesn't want to make him sick. He'll pump when he gets back to his flat, though he hates having to pour it down the drain when his every instinct tells him it should be nourishing Jon. He's thought about asking Jon if he'd like Martin to save it for him, but that would require talking about what they're doing. He'd much rather Jon get it directly from the source, anyway. 

Eventually Jon comes back to himself and stands somewhat abruptly, straightening his clothes and avoiding Martin's eyes. 

It hurts. It feels very much like rejection, but he's gotten used to the way Jon acts after Martin feeds him, understands why Jon is embarrassed to even look at him afterwards. It still hurts.

Martin zips up his bra and buttons his shirt hastily, then goes to the corner to pull his jumper on. Jon stands next to the desk now, watching Martin dress with an unreadable expression.

"Goodnight, Jon," he says as he opens the door to leave. Jon doesn't answer, which Martin finds odd. Jon always at least gives him a 'Goodnight, Martin' or a polite 'See you tomorrow, Martin.'

"I'll, um. I'll see you Monday?" he tries, but Jon just stands seemingly frozen to the spot. His face is blank, but there's something else there, something that gives the impression of a dam about to break.

"Jon?" Martin says, now more than a bit concerned, turning away from the door, "Are you okay?"

There's a pregnant pause where Jon still doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, then all at once his face crumbles into a look of utter despair and his chest starts to heave with held back sobs. 

Martin is across the room in an instant, pulling Jon into a tight hug and muttering soft, soothing words into his hair. Jon wraps his arms around Martin desperately tight and cries into his chest. He cries heavy, retching sobs that leave him with so much force Martin worries he might vomit from it. He feels helpless to soothe Jon's pain, can't even imagine how long he's been holding this in. All Martin can do is hold him until he stops shaking.

It takes a long time for the crying to slow down, but after a while the deep sobs peter out and Jon is left sniffling and hiccuping quietly, too weak to hold himself up any longer and trusting Martin to keep him from collapsing to the floor. 

"Jon? Let's sit you down, alright?"

Jon lets himself be steered back to his chair and gently pushed to sit there. Martin grabs a few tissues from the desk.

"Here, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Jon nods jerkily and closes his eyes as Martin carefully wipes the tears and mucous off his face, his chest still jumping occasionally with the aftershocks of his weeping. Martin cleans him up as well as he can, then kneels in front of him, delicately taking one of Jon's hands in his own. Jon hangs his head, hiding his face in a curtain of long, black curls.

"Jon? Can you look at me?"

Jon looks like he's going to refuse for a moment, then hesitantly raises his head to look Martin in the eyes.

"Hey," Martin says, softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, "There you are."

Jon squeezes his hand back, weakly. Martin smiles gently.

"Can you tell me what just happened, Jon?"

Jon looks down, sniffs loudly. He swallows, looks back up, then down again.

"I-" Jon winces at how hoarse his voice is, "I don't know. I just- you were, you were leaving, and I got scared."

Jon's voice is so small. He sounds lost and small and Martin wants nothing more than to wrap him up and keep him safe from everything that's ever hurt him.

"Why were you scared, Jon?"

"You- you were leaving," he repeats helplessly, "I d-didn't want you to leave. I-"

"You were scared to be alone? Is that it?"

Martin lifts the hand not holding Jon's to brush the hair away from his eyes, but Jon flinches away from it suddenly.

"God, this is ridiculous," he says, ripping his hand away from Martin to hide his face in his fingers.

"It's not. Jon, it's not ridiculous."

Jon laughs humorlessly.

"It's pathetic. Christ. I'm a grown man I don't know why I'm acting like- like a..."

Like a baby. They both know that's what he was going to say. 

"I'm sorry," Jon says, sounding on the verge of another crying fit.

"Do you want me to go?" Martin asks, even though he knows it will shatter him if the answer is 'yes'.

"No."

"Do you want to come home with me?"

Jon doesn't hesitate.

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfition writer tip: if you don't have a beta reader, an easy way to check for simple typos and grammatical errors is to plug your fic into a text-to-speech website and listen to the whole thing! Just be aware that listening to a text-to-speech robot read your non-sexual breastfeeding kink fanfiction will forever change you as a person!
> 
> dont look at me


End file.
